Did What I Had to Do
by ZenyZootSuit
Summary: After all that Dean had done for his brother, would Sam really kill him on a whim? Set during 1x10 Asylum.


Disclaimer: IT'S MINE! ALL MINE! *wakes up* Damn it…

The barrel of a pistol shook inches from Dean's face, but that wasn't what the elder Winchester's gaze was trained on as he lay on the filthy floor of the abandoned asylum. His chest stung from the rock salt he had been shot with moments earlier, but he wasn't paying attention to that either. No, he was staring at the face of this younger brother, his darling Sammy. A few drops of blood dripped from the younger's nose, signaling that his brain had been tampered with by the ghost of the infamous Dr. Ellicott.

"Do you really hate me that much?" he asked, a note of disbelief in his voice. "That you would kill your own brother?" Sam's face was furious, no livid. Dean couldn't help but wonder what he had done to make Sam so angry. Had he really been that bad of a brother...

*flashback*

Dean drummed his fingers on the scratched countertop, his gaze flittering around the sleazy motel room. The carpet was stained with things he didn't care to think about, there was mold growth on the ceiling from a leak, whose source was probably the sewage pipe (judging by the smell) and the undoubtedly bedbug-ridden bed provided little comfort for little eight-year-old Sammy. The little boy tossed and turned in his sleep anxiously.

The elder Winchester eyed his little brother, the hunger of two days gnawing at his stomach. What Sammy had eaten for dinner that night, if one could even call a few boiled noodles and an over-ripe orange dinner, had been the last of their stash. Dean had called their father fourteen times, but to no avail. The man was a week late.

"Don't leave the room," he had commanded his children. Dean hated disobeying orders, but what was he supposed to do? Let Sammy starve? Making up his mind, he scratched out a note for his brother, shoved a silver knife in his pocket and a handgun in the back of his jeans and made his way silently out the door.

The cold night air bit unforgivingly at Dean's bare arms as he walked stiffly down the street towards the convenience store, fully intending to shoplift. He was afraid to get caught. Not for his own sake, that he could care less about, but if he was with the cops, Sammy was wide open. _He's wide open now, Dean._ The twelve-year-old quickened his steps.

He pressed his back as close to the alleyway wall as humanly possible and held his breath. Flashing lights passed by the entrance. He had almost gotten caught and had escaped with nothing to show for it. _Stupid, stupid, stupid…Now Sammy will starve…_

A hand was placed on his shoulder. Dean turned to see a grisly looking man staring down at him.

"Well, now, what's a little boy like you doing out here all alone?" the man drawled. Dean swallowed hard.

"Looking for food for my brother." The man cocked his head.

"You're the one who shoplifted that store…or tried to?" Dean didn't answer. The man chuckled. "Yeah I saw and heard you. Listen, I'll make you a deal boy. You do something for me and I'll go get some food for your brother. I _promise_." Dean narrowed his eyes.

"Food first." The man grinned cruelly.

Dean stumbled back towards the motel, a horrible taste on his tongue and feeling as if his very soul had been washed in sewage. The back of his throat hurt.

"It's for Sammy, it's for Sammy," he repeated over and over to himself, a few apples and a can of soup clutched in his arms. At the door of the room, he fumbled with the key before finally managing to open the door.

"Dean!" He looked up to see his baby brother smiling at him.

"Hey Sammy," he said, a small smile crossing his face. "I got you some breakfast."

"Dean." The elder Winchester looked up to see none other than his father. The smile fell from his face. The tall man stared emotionlessly at his eldest son. "Sammy," he said." Take your breakfast and go in the kitchen for a moment." The little boy obeyed. "Dean, can I talk to you outside for a minute?" Dean nodded slowly. He knew what was coming.

"What did I tell you?!" John hissed at him. "What is the number 1 rule?!"

"Watch out for Sammy!" Dean gasped out, on the verge of tears. He cheek stung, a small bruise forming.

"And what did you do?!"

"I-I left him alone. But I was only—" He was cut off by another backhanded slap.

"I don't care what you were trying to do, it's what you did that matters and what you did isn't good enough," spat John, releasing his son and going back inside. Dean followed inside, his head bowed.

*end flashback*

"Alright then," Dean spoke smoothly. Sam's hand shook. "DO IT!" Den screamed at him. And he did. The empty gun clicked and clicked again as his brother tried to fire it. Dean's chest seized up as he knocked his brother unconscious. He knew that Sam had been tampered with, but that didn't stop it from hurting. All that he did for his baby brother, all that he had sacrificed for him and Sam had wanted to shoot his brother in the face.

"I know I said some awful things back there. I was like I couldn't control it, but I didn't mean it. Any of it."

Dean regarded Sam calmly. "You didn't huh?"

"No of course not." Dean nodded slowly and looked away. "Look, Dean, do we need to talk about this?" He looked back at Sam.

"No."

A/N: Yay! Under 1000 words! *feels accomplished* Hope you enjoyed that. Comments, questions, concerns, tips, flames, drop me a line 


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